Pink Rose
by Xelia Phyx
Summary: The death of a friend has upset Tom greatly. I was planning for the main character to be Dougie, but I haven't seen any Tom fics, and Tom fits the story better.


**Disclaimer : I don't own McFly, I don't own Tom's Family. I own the main character though. **

**Hey guys, I got this this idea one day out of the blue, and guess what? Standalone! One-shot.**

He woke up, blinking his eyes, and sighing as reality hit him. He had no more tears left to cry, having being over emotional, even for him, in the past few days. Thomas Michael Fletcher dragged himself out of bed, and prepared to face the harsh reality of life, and the death of his best friend.

'_Come on, Tommy boy! You aren't afraid, are you?'_

He shook his head, unimagining her ten-year-old voice in his mind. Stepping into the shower, he let the warm water beat over his body. Running his fingers through his short blonde hair, he choked, trying to cry, to let all that pressure out, but failing. Turning off the water, he stepped out of the shower, simultaneously wrapping a towel around his waist. He stared at himself in the mirror, a part of him not believing his appearance. There was a five-o'clock shadow on his chin, and dark circles under his eyes.

_'Listen you. You are going to spill everything you are stressing over about, understand?'_

His brain replayed that particular scene. That day, he had girl troubles, as any sixteen-year-old boy had. She forced him to spill his guts, and in the end, the advice "bestowed" on him had got him a six-month relationship. As she always said, give a small amount of chocolates, a small amount of flowers, and a big amount of willingness to do anything, to get a girl.

He felt his stubble over his chin. Reaching for his razor, he shaved himself clean. Feeling his skin, partly satisfied, He walked out onto his room and began changing.

_Her look softened. 'Come here you, you great big lump,' she said, while smiling._

He remembered that scenario as he was tying his black tie peppered with graphics, a present courtesy of her again on his birthday. It was the Junior-Senior prom, and as both had no dates, they agreed to go with each other. In the rented limo, he struggled with his tie. She finally snapped at him, then tied it for him.

Tom landed back to reality. He was dressed immacutely in a white dress shirt, black dress pants, a black blazer, and a loosely knotted tie around his neck. He didn't usually make an effort in dressing, but before her passing on, she insisted on it.

'_I want my funeral to be a black tie event, right?'_

A knock on the door. His sixteen-year-old sister, Carrie entered the room. She sat on his bed, studying his body language. He busied himself, slipping on his shoes, putting on his watch. Everything had become routine to him. Carrie looked at him sadly. Her brother had been drained of all feelings. Now he was no longer unreadable, as he had been, when she was still here.

'We're leaving in fifteen, Tom,' she said, her voice filled with sadness. As she made to walk out the door she turned her head in his direction, and whispered, seemingly to herself. 'She wouldn't have wanted to see you like this, Tom' and slipped out of the room.

'_Tom, are you my best friend?'_

'_You silly cow, 'course I am!'_

He wiped his face. He made his way downstairs, where his mum, dad, sister and band mates waited for him alone. A pang of guilt seeped through his heart armor. He hated to make people wait. Unlike her. She was always "fashionably late", as she called it.

'_Dudette, what took you so long?'_

'_Hey, girls take longer to get ready. Have you tried to put eyeliner on in five minutes?'_

'_I don't use make up.'_

'_But girls do.'_

When they saw him, their hearts sank even more in sadness. His eyes were devoid of emotion. Tom's father cleared his throat, breaking the silence drifting in the room. He led his wife and daughter out, leaving the boys in the room.

The normally jovial and sometimes immature Danny, looked somber. Dougie looked down at his shoes, having no experience at these situations. Harry was the only one who understood, and patted Tom on the shoulder. 'C'mon man, we're late.' The four men walked out the door of their house, stopping briefly to lock the door. They piled into Harry's car, and started for the cemetery.

They passed by the bakery,

'_Tom, I **need** sugar!'_

'_And **I** need the money for my lessons!'_

'_Aww, come on, you can spare a pound fifty for a doughnut, can't you?_

The independent bookshop,

'_Dude, check this out.'_

'_No way, where'd you get that? It's a Star Wars trilogy at seventy percent off!'_

'_You can thank me now…Ouch!'_

_'Pompous git, you are, Tom.'_

The local Starbucks,

'_Thomas, give me that café latte, right now.'_

'_And what if I don't?'_

'_You'll get kneed where 99 percent of the male gender don't want to get kneed.'_

'_What about the remaining one percent?'_

'_They got castrated. Now hand that coffee over.'_

And they sped out onto the highway. Rolling hills surrounded with mist blurred into the landscape, and the cars sped by. Then they passed by their picnic spot, beside a pond.

'_Omigosh, TOM! You have no idea how awesome you are now!'_

'_Actually, I do.'_

_She sighed._

'_You're still that pompous git I've known since pre-school.'_

'_Oi, I resent that!'_

_'Whatever, dude, all I wanna do now is eat that tiramisu.'_

They turned into a junction. The Bayville Cemetery was just up front. The party of four plus three got out of their cars, and made for plot 3-A2. Tom walked in a daze, remembering how they spent a day here for their internship. She had complained that it was the stupidest thing ever, but then something extraordinary happened.

'_Tom, look.'_

'_What?'_

'_Look at this headstone.' It was in the shape of an angel._

'_Mary Angelica Disandi. Loving daughter and friend. May she rest in peace.' He read out._

'_She was only three, Tom.'_

'_Sometimes the world is cruel.'_

'_Too cruel, perhaps.'_

From then, she became even more emphatic. And when they found out she had leukemia, she never gave up, trying to find a cure, going for the chemo until her wavy golden brown hair dropped out. And she even donated the hair to Locks Of Love.

'_But why not make it into a wig for yourself?'_

'_Thomas, other people need it more than me.'_

But then it couldn't be cured. And no donor had been found. She sank into depression. But a month before this day, she embraced the idea.

'_Death would be another awfully big adventure.'_

'_Hey, you ripped off Peter Pan!'_

'_It's not like he cares.' _

'_Oh yeah…'_

Each day she looked forward to his visits. But under his jovial mask, he breaking down inside. Even Danny noticed it

'_Mate, you've got to let it all out you know. Bottling it all up doesn't help.'_

'_I can't, Danny. Not yet. Not while she's still here. I won't give up hoping'_

He had hoped for a donor to come forward. Even until the last day. But no one volunteered. Not even one person. People are cruel, he thought.

'_Please, don't leave.' He had begged her, tears snaking down his face._

_Chuckling weakly, she brushed her hand across his cheek, wiping away his tears._

'_Tom, just promise to remember me always, okay?'_

_With her parting words spoken, she breathed her last breath, and was gone._

_He looked at her in shock, took in her porcelain-skinned face, and finally broke down sobbing._

_He shook her hand, willing her to blink open her eyes, to wake up. But it was too late._

_Too late to tell her a vital piece of information._

They had reached the designated plot. Her family was there, her mother weeping. He took one look at the coffin, holding his best friends body. Unable to bear the harsh reality, he ran away to the road side to catch his breath. Dougie made to follow him, but Harry held him back. Sometimes it was best to leave one alone while grieving.

Tom looked up at the sky. Blue tinged with pink, and a hint of cloud. To his right, he saw a young woman selling roses.

'_Hey, Tom, I want a rose! Get me one, please?_

'_Just for this day only, alright?'_

'_Sure! But just get me a white one.'_

'_Why not a pink one? I though that was your favorite flower?'_

'_Sure, but white means friendship. Red's love and pink's…well pink means crushing on someone.'_

'_Oh, right…'_

He had gotten her a white one, and days later he saw her checking out a book on flower pressing from the library. When going through her belongings, after she passed away, he found an envelope dedicated to him. In it was the pressed flower, in the shape of a bookmark, and a note.

_Dear Tom_

_By the time you read this, I may not be on this earth any more._

_But all I want you to do is remember the times we shared together._

_Sooner or later, you'll have to move on._

_Just visit my grave on the anniversary of my death._

_Keep the pressed white rose bookmark._

_Remember me always while using it as you read Harry Potter._

_Best friends forever_

_xXx_

Walking over to the flower stall, he bought three roses. Making his way back, he stood the closest to the coffin. The pastor began his sermon. Tom tuned out of it.

'_Will you remember me in heaven?' He had asked her one day._

'_Silly goose, 'course I will. I'll be wishing you and the band to keep going on for ten years!'_

'_And work us to death?'_

'_No…you'll get one month vacations.'_

_Their conversation continued, and Tom suggested watching The Notebook, starring Rachel McAdams._

_She sighed, as the credits rolled._

'_I want a big white house like that, Tom'_

'_I'll draw one for you.' He offered._

'_What about a real one?'_

'_Haven't you learned from my Living skills project? I suck at building stuff.'_

'_Oh yeah! I remember that one particular project…'_

_And they started reminiscing._

At the end, when everyone were paying their respects, he glanced at the headstone. It read :

Anne Rose Kayle Freene

Beloved Daughter

Cherished Friend

12/03/85 – 14/02/07

Rest In Peace Always

She would've been twenty-two next month. But she was going to celebrate it in heaven.

Tom was the last one. He kneeled in front of the grave, and laid the roses across her grave.

A white one, to symbolizes friendship.

A pink one, as it was her favorite flower.

And a red one. For love.

How ironic she passed away on Valentine's Day. He had planned to confess all.

But she was gone now.

It was too late.

He murmured, 'Happy Valentine's Day to you, Annie. I never told you this, but…I love you…'

He then got up, and walked back to the car, accompanied by the guys, as rain began to fall.

The rain outlined a female figure by Anne's grave, who was stroking the three roses.

And the wind blew her words across the cemetery…

'I love you too, Thomas.'


End file.
